What Happened When Kurt Wrecked The Kitchen
by haleygirl
Summary: Kurt is playing restaurant when something unexpected happens. Contains parental spanking of a minor.
1. Chapter 1

Burt was in the front yard, changing the oil in his car. It had been a lazy day. Kurt had been blessedly entertaining himself all day, setting up all of his old stuffed animals up in the kitchen to play restaurant. He had spent a good half hour just trying to get the calligraphy on the menu right. It was sweet. Seeing his son so occupied, Burt had taken advantage and laid out in the hammock in the back yard and taken a good long nap. He didn't get those often enough as a single parent with a business—maybe he was finally getting the hang of this. It had been ten months since they'd lost Elizabeth, and some days he was still drowning in the responsibility and unresolved grief of it all. It was a win to have an easy day. Rested, he was now ready to check off some items on the to do list and maybe he'd splurge and take the kid to dinner tonight.

"DAD!"

The scream sent such a bolt of fear into Burt Hummel's heart that he dropped the oilcan on the driveway.

"DAD! DAD! HELLLLP!" The panicked 9 year old collided right with Burt as he came running at the front door. "I'M SOORRRRYYYY DAD I'M SORRY!" Kurt screamed.

"Calm down!" Burt yelled, in a voice that was probably unlikely to calm anyone down. "What's wrong?"

Unable to catch his breath and starting to cry, Kurt shakily pointed in the direction of the kitchen, where Burt could see a flame flickering over the pan on the stove.

"Holy sh- stay there!" Burt yelled, pushing Kurt a bit roughly in the direction of the door. Burt ran into the kitchen and pulled the fire extinguisher from under the cabinet, spraying it on the fire just in time.

Burt exhaled, his head pounding. He looked around the kitchen. Kurt had pulled out half a dozen different pots and pans. There was flour all over the counter, and a bottle of syrup had been knocked over on the table, leaving a puddle of sticky goo dripping on the floor. His stuffed animals were still sitting at all the chairs, staring back at him like nothing had happened.

Burt turned back to see his son hanging by the front door, nervously eyeing him. "What the hell, Kurt?" Burt spat, regretting it immediately. He shouldn't talk to his kid like that, Elizabeth would have had his head about stuff like that, but just… what. the. hell.

Kurt sniffled. "It got hot and I was gonna turn it down but… I got scared," he murmured.

"Since when are you supposed to be playing with the stove?"

Kurt sniffled with a pout. "I'm going into fourth grade, Dad," he said, as if that should be answer enough.

"Well you're not going to get there if you burn the house down! You're not three years old anymore, I should be able to go outside for a bit and not need to call the fire department!" Burt blurted.

Kurt's face crumpled a bit and he looked away. "...I wanted to make paella," he whimpered, embarrassedly brushing at the tear sneaking down his cheek.

Burt sighed. He forced himself to bring his voice lower. "Kurt, buddy, all you had to do was ask me—"

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "You don't know how to make paella!"

Burt's face froze. He wasn't expecting his kid to get fresh right now. "Kurt—" he tried, "I'm the adult here and you're—"

"You probably don't even know what paella is! You don't even know how to make anything if it's not on a barbecue!" young Kurt accused.

Burt's mouth hung open. Then Kurt stomped his foot in frustration and ran to his room.

"Kurt!" Burt yelled just as the door slammed. He felt an impulse to chase him and he grabbed hold of the counter as though it were a tether. _Slow down_ , he told himself. He took a breath and counted to ten. Just looking around the kitchen, he couldn't believe how much of a mess Kurt had made in such a short time. It couldn't have even been that long that he'd been outside. God, this was exactly the kind of time he missed Elizabeth the most. If she were here he'd walk it off around the neighborhood while she stayed here. But when you're a single parent you don't get to take turns. Especially when apparently your kid might accidentally set the house on fire when you're just ten feet outside the front door. _What the fuck, Kurt. I'm too old for this._


	2. Chapter 2

Burt rubbed at his temple. He sighed and decided he needed a minute. If Kurt was sulking downstairs he wasn't going to be much of a listener anyway, he figured. He went outside and cleaned up the oil and put back the hood of his car.

 _The kid has a point_ , he mused. He wasn't actually sure what paella was. Some kind of dessert? But Kurt definitely knew better than to be cooking without adult supervision. He could have gotten hurt, or caused serious damage. Chagrined, Burt headed back inside, examining the damage. Luckily the fire hadn't spread past the pan, but there was plenty of stuff to clean up. He looked over by the microwave, where a large book of recipes was opened up. A stool was pushed up near it; Kurt must have climbed up on it to reach it above the cabinets. _Damn it, Kurt, you trying to break your neck?_ Elizabeth was the cook in the family; it was actually kind of a wonder the two of them hadn't starved in the last ten months. The recipe books hadn't been touched all year; they had been getting by with sandwiches, macaroni and cheese, and soup for the most part. _What a year._

Burt opened the door to the basement, which served as both playroom and bedroom for Kurt. It had worked out well: Kurt was happy because he had more space down there than any kid he knew and Burt wasn't tripping over all of his toys constantly. He padded down the stairs, trying to put on his Dad voice. "Alright Kurt. Time for sulking is over, we need to talk."

"Go away!" Kurt yelled, still pouting face down into his bed on one side of the room.

"Oh no. None of that. You don't get to talk to me like that young man." Burt scolded, "You're already in enough trouble."

Kurt made a face but got up, facing away from Burt for good measure.

Burt rolled his eyes. His kid was exasperatingly stubborn sometimes. "You left quite a mess up there, kiddo."

Kurt fidgeted. "…Sometimes cooking is messy. It's not like I had a sous-chef to help out."

"Uh huh. Well you're cleaning it all up, young man. I didn't work all week at the tire shop to spend the weekend picking up after your mess. Your restaurant is closed for business until further notice."

Kurt huffed, annoyed.

"Okay?" Burt pressed.

"Fine, I'll clean it up. God." Kurt spat.

Burt eyed his son. "Young man, I know that was probably a little scary up there, and maybe you have some good reasons to be feeling upset right now, but I didn't raise you to be fresh to grown ups."

"I'm not being—"

"Your smart mouth is about to get you a smarting bottom young man, so I'd quit while I was ahead if I were you."

Kurt crossed his arms and slumped, scowling.

 _Jesus what am I going to do when he's 16?_ , Burt wondered. He looked at his watch. No way was he going to risk taking Kurt out in public if he was in mouthy mode like this. "I'm ordering a pizza," he announced. "Should be here in a half hour. That'll be plenty of time for you to get started."

Kurt sulkily got up and shuffled past his father towards the stairs.

"I want all the flour cleaned up, and all the food put away. We have enough problems without attracting bugs." Burt added.

"Yes, Dad." Kurt muttered.

"And once the pizza is here we can discuss your punishment."

Kurt turned slowly back to his father. "I thought my punishment was having to clean up."

Burt's eyebrows raised. "No. Having to clean up your mess is a natural consequence of making that mess, young man. You damn near set the house on fire. You're definitely getting punished more than that."

Kurt groaned. "You're no fair!" he complained. "I shouldn't have to listen to you!"

Burt closed the distance between himself and his son. "It seems to me that someone is forgetting who's in charge around here." he said, grabbing Kurt's arm and turning him to the side. He planted three sharp spanks to Kurt's backside, and then released the child, hopping and reaching back to rub his bottom. "Upstairs. Now." he commanded.

Kurt shrunk at his father's stern tone and ran back up the stairs. Burt watched him leave. Burt closed his eyes. Parenthood was a drag sometimes.


	3. Chapter 3

The doorbell rang and Burt got up from the couch to pay the pizza guy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kurt scurrying over to the sink to wet a sponge. Kurt had been slowly restoring the kitchen, in between pouting, of course, but hearing that the pizza was here apparently lit a fire under him. Burt carried the pizza and soda in and assessed the kitchen. The flour had been cleaned up and Kurt was wiping up the syrup. The pots and pans had been put away and the stuffed animals were all in a pile at the door to the basement, presumably to take back down to his room later. _Could have done worse_ , Burt mused.

When Kurt was finished with the syrup, he brought the sponge back to wash in the sink. Then he pushed the stool closer to the counter and climbed up on it. He picked up the recipe book and reached up high on tiptoes trying to put it back.

"Woah, what are you doing?" Burt asked

Kurt turned, looking at his dad like he had three heads. "…Putting the recipe book away."

 _The attitude is back, awesome._ Burt crossed over to the stool and lifted his lithe son off of it and planted him back on the floor. "You're going to break your neck that way."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You told me to put everything away."

Burt sighed a deep sigh. This kid was going to drive him to drink. He struggled not to make this a fight. "Look, if you want to be able to look at the recipe book we can find another place for it. You don't need to be climbing up on all the counters."

Kurt eyed him. Burt pulled the stool back over to its proper place in the kitchen for good measure.

"…Maybe you should look at it sometimes." Kurt said, in a voice that showed he knew he was walking a tightrope here.

Burt groaned. "Yes you've made it clear you're not impressed with my cooking."

"Dad I've had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at school every day all year!"

Burt leaned against the wall. "Well… if you want something else we can—"

"Mike's family cooks for him every day! His lunch is always rice and chicken, or—"

Burt chuckled. "Kurt. Mike's family is Asian, of course he—"

"Well maybe I wish we were Asian then!"

Burt groaned. "Kurt, you're being ridiculous. You don't like peanut butter and jelly we'll come up with something else."

"Mike's mom picks him up after school every day. He doesn't have to sit around at the boring after school program."

Burt was getting a headache now. That after school program was digging hard into their budget, and little got him more irritated than listening to Kurt complain about it. If he was a kid he would have been thrilled to have a bunch of kids to play with every day after school. _Why does my kid have to be so… different… all the time?_

"Well Mike's mom isn't a mechanic with customers to worry about. Some kids would be thankful their dad spends money so they can go to a nice after school-"

"It's not nice. It's stupid."

"Well, until you can babysit yourself you're going, so knock it off."

"Everyone plays sports there. No one likes what I like."

Burt rolled his eyes. "I don't know what to tell you kiddo—"

"I want to stay with you at the tire shop."

Burt stared at his son. Never in his life would he have guessed Kurt would say that.

"…Since when are you interested in cars."

"I'm not. I… I just… I want to be with you." Kurt said quietly.

 _Oh._

"W-well we can't… Kurt, it's a workplace, I can't have a child running around—"

"I wouldn't run around. You took me there that day there was a snow day and I was good as gold, you said."

"There isn't anything for you—"

"I could do my homework there after school, and you wouldn't have to spend money on the after school program. And I'll keep my art pad and colored pencils and not bother none of your customers. And when you weren't busy, you can… tell me what carburetors are and stuff."

Burt chuckled, in spite of himself. "Are you being for real here?"

Kurt nodded. "I just… I'd rather be with you."

Burt pursed his lips. The kid had been through a lot. Maybe after losing your mom it was hard not being near family sometimes. That therapist Mr. Chang had talked him into bringing Kurt to would probably want them to talk about it. Burt had no problem sending his kid to a therapist, but the lady always wanted to talk with him after, and… he wasn't always real wild about getting parenting advice. It felt like criticism, and he was beating himself up about everything these days already.

"I'll think about it."

Kurt actually squealed and jumped up and down with a grin that Burt hadn't seen in a long while.

Burt smiled and put his arm around his son. "I said, I'd think about it."

"I know, I know. But you'll like having me there I promise."

Burt rolled his eyes. "Alright, young man. We can talk about this more later, but we have some business to attend to."

He lifted Kurt up and sat him on the counter.

"You know better than to be playing with the stove, young man."

"It wasn't playing—"

"Have I ever let you touch the stove when I wasn't around before?"

"W—well it's not like you were gone, you were just—"

"Uh huh. And I was so close by, and it was so not a big deal, yet you couldn't walk the ten feet out my door and get permission first?"

Kurt looked at the floor.

"You want to learn to cook stuff, we can arrange that. I can call Mike's mom tonight and tell her you want to learn to make the stuff she makes. I am all for you learning to be independent and doing what grown ups know how to do. That's why I taught you about changing tires. But you had no business using the stove without a grown up here and you know it."

Kurt pouted, not having a good argument for that.

"Look, Kurt, I don't want to talk about this any more than you do, but your mom and I always told you that being safe is number one. You may not be happy with me lately, but she wouldn't have wanted you playing with the stove without supervision either."

Kurt scowled. Talk about safety was never good.

"In this house little boys who forget the rules about safety get reminded the old-fashioned way. Children who play with fire need a little fire on their backside to make sure they never try it again."  
"I wasn't playing with—" Kurt protested.

"Uh huh." Burt cut him off, picking him up off the counter and grabbing his hand. "I'm not fond of you making a mess, and I really don't like the attitude you've been showing me lately, young man. Any of that should have had you spending a good long time in your room at least, maybe no TV tonight. But I'm not messing around with safety. This isn't negotiable. You need a good spanking, and you're getting one."


	4. Chapter 4

Burt brought his son over to the armchair to get this unpleasant business over with. While his own father put him over a knee at least twice a week as far as he could recall, he usually didn't find it necessary. For the most part Kurt was pretty attached to his privileges as he'd grown up, and any threat that they might be taken away was taken very seriously. Compared to a lot of kids Kurt didn't get into trouble about a lot of things, but he could be fresh when he wanted to and that more than anything else was what usually pushed Burt to spank him recently. _His mouth is probably still going to be getting him in trouble when he's in high school._

Aside from the occasional slipup, Kurt was behaving fairly well these days. There had been a period about six months ago when he was bugging the crap out of him with whining and backtalk, when Burt was at his wit's end. The therapist said he thought it was time to reiterate the rules of the house and be more consistent with consequences, and Burt had to admit that he'd started letting his kid walk all over him a bit. He was still grieving himself, and if letting Kurt watch TV an extra hour rather than arguing about bedtime saved him a fight, he was finding himself more and more willing to let it go. Having the whole world feel sorry for Kurt this past year probably hadn't helped matters, either. His teacher was probably letting him get away with murder, too. After an understandable push back once Burt tried to reinstitute normal consequences for poor behavior, Kurt adjusted pretty well and most of behaviors driving Burt crazy were at least down to a manageable level. _God it's been a long year_.

Since that talk with the therapist, Burt had been slowly finding his way back to his normal parenting style, which was to be pretty strict about certain things like safety and basic manners, but to be fairly hands off about some things that mattered less to him. He let his kid decorate his room how he wanted and let him ride his bike all the way down to the park a good year before the neighbors even considered it for their kid. He knew the Changs next door made a big deal about grades, but not being someone who had ever really been more than a B or C student most of his life, he didn't see a lot of point to pushing that with Kurt unless the teacher was calling. He actually think Mr. Chang had been rather shocked one time when he'd been over dropping something off and saw that Kurt had a spelling test with a B+ on it hanging on the refrigerator. He was pretty sure if little Mike ever got a B+ he'd probably be grounded.

Burt had gotten closer to their neighbors after Elizabeth had died. Elizabeth had been in a book club with Mrs. Chang for a long time but Burt only really knew them as people who occasionally came in the shop to get an oil change. Truth be told, he'd been kind of intimidated by them before because they always presented themselves as really educated people. Their kid always looked sort of perfect and clean, while his kid was always walking around with marker stains all over his hands from drawing new fashion designs. But when Elizabeth died they went out of their way to volunteer to babysit and helped organize people in the neighborhood to make him and Kurt dinner for two whole months after the funeral. And Mr. Chang had recommended that therapist for Kurt because he was a friend of his colleague, and while Burt didn't particularly relish talking to her himself, she'd definitely helped Kurt quite a bit. _I guess we got pretty lucky in the neighbor department._

Now that Kurt knew he was getting a spanking he was scowling up a storm. "This is NO fair!" he whined.

"I don't know where you got the idea that I'd be fine with you almost setting the house on fire, mister, but we're going to fix that right quick." Burt lectured, unbuttoning his son's pants.

"Heyyyy…." Kurt whimpered, batting at his father's hands.

"Sorry kiddo. You know you've earned a proper spanking for this, and like your grandfather used to say, proper spankings are always on the bare bottom."

Burt pulled down his pouting son's pants and unceremoniously lifted him across his knee. He pulled his underwear down to his knees, ignoring the whining that commenced once his bottom was bared. Compared to Burt's own upbringing, Kurt was pretty spoiled, Burt was sure. But he wasn't going to cut corners with something like this. Burt Hummel had never reneged on a promise for a good spanking before and he wasn't going to start now. He lifted his calloused hand and gave the little bottom across his knee a good SLAP that sent Kurt squealing.

"I don't mess around with safety, young man," he scolded, punctuating his statement with another SPANK. "You knew better."

"Nooo…. I-I didn't mean tooooooo," Kurt whimpered.

"Oh you meant to," Burt reprimanded, setting to light Kurt's bottom up with a series of swift smacks that quickly had him squirming over his knee. "Don't you lie to me. You knew you weren't supposed to use the stove. You just were hoping you wouldn't get caught."

"Owwwww….it hurtssssss." Kurt whined, kicking his feet.

Burt smacked at his child's sit spots, stern. "It's meant to, young man. If you don't like getting your bare bottom spanked you had better make sure you don't pull another stunt like this again."

"Okay OW okayyyy I'm sorryyyyy…"

Burt pulled him tighter, holding him in place as he spanked. "I thought you knew this rule, but we're going to make sure. Little boys who use the stove without an adult can expect a good bottom warming, you hear me?"

"Okayyyyy…" Kurt grumbled, staring at the floor and clearly just wanting it to be over.

Burt kept spanking, hoping that being thorough here would make this less necessary in the future. "And you're going to be watching your attitude, too," he added with a SWAT. "Because I've about had it with your backtalk, young man. If you don't know how to talk to me without being fresh, you're going to be finding your bare bottom over my knee a lot more often, got it?"

"Yessssss OWWWW." Kurt whimpered, feeling his father wallop his reddening behind.

"I don't like giving you a spanking, Kurt, but if your behavior tells me you need one, I will."

"Yesss Dad I'm sorryyyyyyyy….I'll behaaaave…." Kurt cried.

Burt silently breathed a bit of relief at the tears, which he always viewed as a good sign his message had gotten through. Kurt could be stubborn at times and wasn't one for crocodile tears. Even when he was smaller, crying usually meant he was likely feeling some actual remorse and not just anger about getting punished in the first place. He finished up with a few well-placed spanks and then let his sobbing son cry it out a bit. He leaned back against the armchair and closed his eyes a moment, glad to have it over.


	5. Chapter 5

After a minute or so, Burt lifted Kurt back to his feet and silently pulled his clothes back up into place. Kurt had quieted but leaned into him, sniffling and sulking. Burt quietly rubbed his back for a moment, neither one saying anything.

"Mike's family's nicer than you." Kurt finally whispered, hesitant.

Burt smiled. "Hmm. Yeah I really thought I had a shot, but it's sounding like Mr. Chang won Father of the Year this time around, huh?"

Kurt nodded, sullen.

Burt wiped at Kurt's face. "Last I checked though, I think they've got their kid doing extra homework on Saturdays. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't get as much allowance as you. Think I should start trying to be more like them now?"

Kurt scowled and shook his head.

Burt chuckled. "Ah. Well maybe I'm not so bad then."

"…You spank hard," Kurt accused quietly.

"Makes sure you remember," Burt dismissed, patting his son's bottom. "Now, punishment is over. Time for dinner."

Burt got up and headed for the kitchen. Kurt sighed and followed, rubbing his bottom.

"I didn't… really mean I wish we were Asian, Dad." Kurt offered, shy.

Burt laughed that Kurt chose that to apologize for. "Well, I'm glad, because you know I always tell you that you can be whatever you want to be, but that might be one thing I can't do much about kiddo."

"And I… guess you're good at cooking some things. Like cereal… and popcorn."

Burt smiled. They almost always made popcorn for Family Night before watching a movie together. "Yes, I have perfected those two dishes. But you're not wrong, buddy. There's some things I don't know how to make."

Kurt watched his father cut up the pizza and put it on plates.

"You really think if you talk to Mike's mom she'll teach me to cook stuff?"  
"I don't see why not. They're nice people. Maybe Mike would like to learn too." Burt was secretly hoping Kurt would get to be closer friends with Mike. He was the only kid his age on this block. Smart, polite kid, and an athlete too from what he could tell. Kurt could do worse.

"Or maybe if Mike' gets tired of the good food in his house he can come over here and you can teach him to make hot dogs on the grill."

Burt rolled his eyes. "I suppose if he wanted to that could be arranged. …You really don't like peanut butter and jelly, huh?"

Kurt shrugged. "It's just kind of provincial."

"Pro- what?"

"It's not fancy."

"Hmm. I didn't know school lunches needed to be fancy these days."

"I like fancier food. I bet Prince Harry never eats peanut butter and jelly." Kurt mused. He had gotten a book at the library with photographs of Buckingham Palace that told all about the British Monarchy and he was pretty sure Prince Harry did just about everything right. He particularly approved of his hair and his clothes. He had started drawing pictures of Prince Harry in a variety of outfits in different scenery. Burt didn't know what to make of this new obsession but it sounded… educational?... so he hadn't made an issue of it.

"Well, we're probably on a bit more of a budget than the Royal Family. But while I'm not exactly a four star chef, I at least could have made you a different kind of sandwich if you had said something before. I can't read your mind Kurt." Burt said.

"…Mom used to make different stuff." Kurt said quietly.

"She did? Different from sandwiches?"

"No. Just… not the same thing every day."

Burt nodded, handing his son his plate. It was hard not to feel like he'd screwed up here. The first day he had to send his kid to school with a lunch he just threw together a few things from the fridge that he guessed he'd like. When Kurt didn't complain that first day he figured it was fine and just kept making the same lunch without another thought. "Well. Maybe we can mix it up a little. Or maybe sometimes you can get the lunch at school."

Kurt chewed on his pizza at the table, choosing not to sit. It was a quiet for awhile and then he thought of something. "Dad, you really don't like when kids are fresh, huh?"

"No, I do not."

"Well some kids are lots more fresh than me. Some kids are even fresh at school."

Burt covered his smile. "They are?" he asked. "Well that's very disappointing. The teachers must not like that."

"Uh huh. Noah Puckerman got in bad trouble yesterday cuz he said a real bad word and this red-haired girl in his class told a fifth grader and then the fifth grader told the teacher."  
"A real bad word?" Burt was amused to learn his quiet little loner was secretly in all of the third grade gossip.

"Yeah like…" Kurt lowered his voice, "…one of the ones the other mechanics at the tire shop say sometimes. About ladies' private parts."

Burt almost choked as he tried his pizza. He would need to talk to his guys. "Well… uh, sounds pretty bad then."

Kurt nodded seriously. "Do you want to know what it was?"  
"Oh no, don't repeat it if it's a bad word."

Kurt looked disappointed. Burt busted out laughing, taking glasses out of the cabinet.

"What's funny?" Kurt asked, slightly offended.

"You are," Burt replied, kissing his forehead. "Don't hang out with that Noah kid. He sounds like he needs a trip to the woodshed."

Kurt made a face. "I won't." Truth be told he was a little afraid of Noah, but he wasn't going to bring that up.

Burt poured soda and then handed a glass to Kurt. "But Mike's a nice kid, right? You can play with him."

Kurt nodded. "He's mostly nice."

"…Just mostly?"

"I guess he's alright. But he's good at sports. He said his dad taught him to play tennis and he's always on the winning team when kids play kickball at recess."

"You could be good at sports too if you tried. We could practice—"

Kurt wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Don't like sports. It gets sweaty."

"You like riding your bike."

"That's different."

Burt shrugged. "I bet when you get to be in high school you'll find a sport you like. It's fun to be on a team and everybody on the team gets to be friends."

"Were you on a team?"

"Sure was. I played football."

"That why you watch football on TV now?"

"I suppose."

Kurt was thoughtful. His eyes lit up. "Do they have a polo team at high school? I think Prince Harry plays polo."

Burt raised an eyebrow. His kid was definitely marching to a different drummer these days. "I… don't know Kurt. I guess… when you're in high school you can ask."

"Do all the sports practice after school?"

"Of course."

Kurt made a face. "I don't want to do stuff after school anymore. I told you."

"Ah. I forgot about your bid to get office space in my shop. I still haven't said yes, kiddo. But even if I do, something tells me you'll probably feel different about all this together time when you're 15."

"No I won't. And you won't even notice I'm there."

"Uh huh."

"I'll be good as gold."

Burt smiled at his sweet child. "You're always good as gold kiddo."

"…Well, mostly." Kurt added, a little guiltily.

"Yes. Mostly." Burt chuckled and ruffled his kid's hair. It was working out to be a pretty good day.


End file.
